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Bobby "Iceman" Drake

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Danger Room Sessions with Logan [August 31st, 2003 @ 8:19PM]
[ mood | frustrated ]

I say, "I can't do sessions." And Wolverine says, "You'll do sessions." I guess my debating skills could use help.

I'm trying to listen to his orders, but Emma decides to do her own stuff, and then we're arguing over who gets to control my arms. They're my arms! Why should I have to argue to use my own arms? If I wannna do the monkey, I shouldn't have to work out a deal with Emma that if I do the monkey, then later she can do the Watusi or something. And while we're going at it Wolverine's yelling something--and ah, apparently it was important 'cause War got his feathers in a ringer since I didn't freeze some thingy to the wall in time and it nearly took his leg off.

Atleast now I can share the blame, huh? Wasn't completely me that messed up. I guess that feels kinda nice in a way.

3 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

RATS. [August 25th, 2003 @ 5:50PM]
[ mood | pissed off ]

Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think of wide open spaces with friendly eskimos that are willing to kill Emma.

...And free ice cream dispensers.

Thiiiiiink happy thoughts. Happy. Happy. Happy. HAPPY.

snowball

[August 15th, 2003 @ 2:29PM]
[ mood | angry ]

So.

Have you ever woken up one day and just knew it'd torment you to all hell?

I'm going to die before I reach 21.

I don't want to die before I reach 21!

2 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

First Thing's First... [August 1st, 2003 @ 7:06PM]
[ mood | loved ]

So I go to my closet to get a Twinkie, right? And out slides a pack of...eh...manly protection devices. Y'know...those. Part of me has this fear that Hostess is spying on me--I mean, they could have cameras hidden in these things, can't they? Or maybe it's the workings of a higher power, maybe Twinkie the Kid is up there looking out for me. Warren said it was a prank and Twinkie the Kid is as real as Santa. I knew it! Santa is real! And Mags better watch himself next time we throw down a fight...I'll bet he isn't expecting any X-Men to have the protection of the Twinkie god.

Oh...ah...and I guess it's fair enough now to say this much: I love you, Rogue. Don't ever let any of my stupid tricks make you think otherwise. It sorta hit me full on when I was off visiting the family--

I'm sorry I made you wait. I'm sorry I didn't say anything.

And I swear, Wings, if you don't stop cracking up everytime I walk by I'm going to freeze your jaw shut!

Uhm....what I mean to say is...Rogue, would you like to maybe swing by and possibly go out with me? Scott said I could borrow his ride--I mean, only if you want to. We could go ice skating or...or...to a movie and make stupid cracks about the new Terminator film... I don't know much about what gals enjoy, but you could always show me the ropes. Anything you want, I'm willing. Whenever you want, I'm ready.

36 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

Man, oh man. [July 30th, 2003 @ 6:19PM]
[ mood | relaxed ]

Scott's got me nailed to go check out some topic secret, classified stuff in about a week's time. So Bobby Drake'll be signing out and Agent 007'll be heading off to review a crime scene and hook some fine ladies. Hey, chicks dig the secret agent stuff, right? and politely turn down all fine ladies that may dig the secret agent stuff. If my calculations hold right in about half an hour the school in its entir--en--entity...no...uhm...entire-ness will know why that is. If it's one thing you learned about this place, may it be that news spreads faster than...something really fast.

I'm sure there'll be questions, so I figured I'll handle them all now:

Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
No.
Only on Tuesdays.
I don't know.
Yes.
Yes.
Definately a maybe.
I don't know what you're talking about.
Yes.

1 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

Twinkies aren't poison! [July 26th, 2003 @ 5:26PM]
[ mood | indifferent ]

Blasphemy! Do not anger the Twinkie Gods with such claims! I skip off a week for some alone time, and I come back to find my Twinkies are being harassed?! Breaks my heart...

Hey, Raven, thanks for sticking up for the Twinkies. I knew I had a friend in you. May the creamy filling forever be with you, my loyal comrade. It's rough times in the midst of nonbelievers. :\

Anyhow, I snuck off to see my family...and that...well, that didn't go too well. I thought seeking the help of an elder in the areas of...eh...y'know...adultly stuff might help my case a little, but it seems my old man hasn't any advice. He more or less told me to get the hell out and find a respectable position in society. I really expected that much, I guess, he's always been that sort of man. If you don't have a job, even if you're two years old, you're a bum. Not to mention he's got this...thingee...against people that're different. That covers the whole roadmap of differentness, I mean. The last thing I need is for him to figure out what his son's been up to...of course by then he'd be set ont he fact that he has no son. Mom didn't have much to say on the matter either. She did hand me some homemade cookies before dad managed to kick me out.

Somehow I couldn't bring myself to even touch the cookies...

It's odd like that. When I first left for the school, I'd figured I'd be homesick until I died. Of course in those early months I expected to die the next day. For all the goofing off I did, and all the trouble I caused, I just didn't...

I didn't expect to end up missing the school more than home, I s'pose.

Amanda's cat came by before, so I fed 'em the cookies. I hope she won't be too angry about that--they weren't poisoned like the Twinkies. If her cat drops dead, we can blame Hank, okay? Shh, don't tell him that.

Uhm...there's one more thing I wanted to say before I go see Scottie-boy. On second thought, nevermind that. I'd better see what's bugging the leader before he does anything.

9 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

Awakening [July 15th, 2003 @ 5:21PM]
The rhythmic beeping of heart moniters slowly came into focus of Bobby's fragile shells as the drowned feeling of his mind started to clear off. A soft groan emitted from his throat as his body attempted to adapt to being awake for the first time in over a week. Two eyelids flashed open, revealing a pair of brown eyes that were more alert than they probably should've been...seeing as there was no danger within the surrounding area. They closed just as fast, the light pouring down from the ceiling overpowered his retina's ability to adjust. Once again, he slowly began to open his eyes noticing first the tubes that were stuck in his arm, and then recognizing the room to be the infirmary.

"Oh man..." His face contorted, the fact finally hitting him that he'd been out of action for...pretty long he best guessed. Wretching the needle from his arm, he slipped his feet over the edge of the bed. Still not completely awake, he overshot the distance to the floor and clasped back into the bed. It took only a few more minutes to steady his shaking limbs and trail from the room. Someone had to be around to explain what happened to him. Or atleast he could find something to wear other than the hospital gown he'd been sporting. Reaching his own room after fighting with his footing and using the constant support of the wall, Bobby collasped onto his own bed. After struggling into a sitting position, he grasped one the wrapped twinkies scattered across his bed--they never did go bad, did they?--and promptly bit into it. A weak smile forced onto his lips, Bobby Drake managed to slip from death this time.
11 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

Don't Let Me Be Alone. [July 5th, 2003 @ 8:48PM]
[ mood | exhausted ]

This'll be short, my eyes are straining. I'm scared. Everyone is, I know it. It's been an up-hill fight, I'm just drained to the point that breathing is hard. Hank came in before, I have no idea what he said...didn't look so convincingly happy about anything. Left because it was too cold. Funny that. Those nightmares were just like this.

I...I don't want to leave this world.

Not now.

snowball

I'll admit it...you got me. [June 26th, 2003 @ 8:19PM]
I'm a little worried about Scottster. I've passed him by a few times on the usual kitchen raids. All he's been seeming to do lately is stare and sit. I haven't the foggiest idea of what going on in his head, but for Scott...he's real quiet. I hope Jean has this one fielded.

I also wish Hank would keep his paws out of my Twinkies! That's the third box to go M.I.A. this week.

"Hey, Hank, where'd the Twinkies go?"

"Whmrrrphff iff fhit?"
2 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

Cold [June 24th, 2003 @ 5:41PM]
[ mood | cold ]

The streets were lined with a white cover, snowflakes gently falling into place around tousled, red-faced residents. Down every lane was a neat web of lights, blinking red, green, blue....his eyes followed the twists and turns, down to a gentle-face woman standing beside him. Now that he looked down he could see her hand clasped into his own. "Bobby, are you listening to me?" He blinked momentarily, then nodded. His mother seemed a little less enthusiastic about Christmas-time than his father, who was standing on his other side surveying the scenes with childish appreciation. It wasn't any surprise, his mother was Jewish; father, Catholic; and he was the inbetween who'd been constantly been adapting from one to the other. No less, it was Christmas-time in the city and they were now just rounding on Radio City Music Hall...

His chilled breath wavered through the air, it was now evident that since he'd come back to his senses, it was so cold. Numbly he followed his mother's direction, her hand tightly clenching his in the mass confusion around the theater. He stopped. Eyes pitifully squinting as though it might do him any good to keep in some heat...

"Bobby?! Bobby, what's the matter...?" It was difficult to remain standing, he flinched slightly and fell to the street in a quivering ball. His mother was the first upon him, being so close, she'd slipped off her glove and went to feel his forehead...fevers ran high, better make sure. A slightly cracking sound was followed by screams, opening his eyes Bobby could see his mother's outline frozen solid. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide; she probably didn't even realize what had happened. Bobby squirmed backward, eyes lit with terror, but without voice. A hand seized him by his scarf from behind and threw his shaking frame into a lightpost. It was only seconds before he could identify the face as his father's, and one a few more after before a mob had advanced in on him.


Back in his own bed, though not typically warm as most might've been, Bobby flipped around violently. His invisible attackers seemed to be getting the better of him before all his comotion had set a book upon the shelf nearby off its resting place and it landed on Bobby's stomach. He jerked up and flung the book away, it smashed helplessly against the wall. Bobby had fallen back into the covers of his bed, shivering from a cold draft that was blowing in his open window. He rised to his feet and draped the blanket around himself, proceeding out the door in search of a little comfort from the freezer's array of icecream.

snowball

Everyone Needs Yoga. [June 20th, 2003 @ 6:07PM]
[ mood | bored ]

Just look at Scott. I rest my case.

"Mop the floors, Drake!"

"And Stop leaving twinkie wrappers on the couch, Drake!"

"That bed better be made too, Drake!"

"DRAKE! ANSWER ME!"

Those are direct quotes, folks. He's pounding on my door and yelling this very minute.

There's no way I'm opening the door now; He'd probably take my head off. Yeesh.

snowball

Jeopardy: Evil Conspiracy of Gaming Television [June 17th, 2003 @ 5:52PM]
[ mood | energetic ]

First off, they give you the answer to the question. Then the question is something like, "What is the Temple of Fuji?" And people on the show actually get upset that they didn't know what the Temple of Fuji was.

I don't even remember my age half the time.

I think I should be the upset one.

Just watching that show makes me feel like a moron. I was watching Spongebob Squarepants, but Hank had to come along and be all, "Oh dearest Bobby, thouest knowest that cartoons rot-eth the mind. Let's watch some insanely boring game show instead." Atleast Spongebob Squarepants holds to my level of thinking. Jeopardy...hoo boy, maybe Hank can whip out those questions like there's no tomorrow...but me? I just kept yelling random nouns. Mostly things like, "What are twinkies?" and "Where did the twinkies go, Hank? I had a box here two seconds ago." That Hank. Takin' my twinkies. Flippin' off Spongebob.

Bottom line? Jeopardy is an evil conspiracy and I need to buy me some twinkies.

snowball

Call me Ishmael [June 16th, 2003 @ 7:03PM]
[ mood | shocked ]

Mystique is God. This is a breakthrough. She didn't yell at me. Didn't throw damaging objects at me. Didn't call me "Popsicle" either.

Did you all get that? Some lot of pals you three are.

Looks like ol' Petey and her hit something off too. Just be safe, you two. :b

1 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

Wow. [June 12th, 2003 @ 7:15PM]
[ mood | amused ]

I've been sentenced to training classes with that gal that tried to blugeon Scott with a book. 'Pparently, the Professor thinks my fighting skills are less then useful. 'Pparently he also thinks letting a hired gun train me, Petey-boy, and the new girl is going to help that.

I guess it helps to know how to beat people senseless with literature. I can't say it wouldn't help.

snowball

Sooooooo... [June 11th, 2003 @ 7:09PM]
[ mood | stressed ]

I goofed. A little. And if listening to Hank read Moby Dick outload isn't enough punishment, then may the Lord please spare my life. Apparently, I, according to Hank, was "expressing much concern over the safety of penguin" which also according to him, "was in fact an empty Twinkie box". Beats me. I can't remember squat about anything other than Hank's Captain Ahab impressions. 'Course even that's a little foggy.

Uhm...and I goofed again. I'm preparing the last words I wish to be known for right now, actually. So far I have "Twinkie" and "bongo". I'm just no good at writing final farewells. See, I sort 'a lost my grip on my Coke while I was sliding down the stair's rail, right? And Emma walks in front of where it was flying to. Somehow that makes it my fault. Warren's threatened to rip my arm off and beat me with it. Him, I'm not worried about. Now Emma...oh man, do you think she'll find me if I move to the Alps and took up buddhism?

6 lobbed 'tween the eyes:snowball

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